


An Older Law

by filenotch



Series: Negotiate 2 [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> She was not a symbol, and she was not an island, and she was so damned alone.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Older Law

**Author's Note:**

> Several sections are episode tags, episode-centric (or refer to other stories in this series). In order: The Storm/The Eye; Hot Zone; Conversion; ([Fortification and Siege Warfare](http://archiveofourown.org/works/116813)); (N+1); Irresistible; The Real World; Common Ground; The Return
> 
> Many thanks on the beta work from ZoeRayne and Mandragora, especially for Mandragora telling me on no uncertain terms what was wrong with it.

It was their first moment of quiet together since the storm. Reports, words, all had wound down, and John looked like he wanted to put his feet on her desk and bolt, both.

She stood. "Walk with me, Major?"

"Ma'am." John followed her, and she led him to the jumper bays. When the doors opened he gave her a look that meant _Why are we here?_

"I need to see the city, John. We almost lost her, and I need to see all of her." She thought he might understand.

"You do spend a lot of time in that office," he answered, and lead her to one of the waiting ships.

She knew they had numbers, though they weren't obviously marked, and she knew John had a favorite. "Number three?"

"Just handles better."

He may not have known it, but his eyes told her he was happy she knew.

His eyes were starting to tell her more, or maybe she was learning to read them better. Perhaps both. Probably both. He was one of the most guarded people she know, and considering international diplomatic circles, that was saying a lot.

She said nothing as John started the jumper, spoke to the techs in the gate room and took the ship out through the opened roof. She flew in jumpers rarely enough that that the view and the strange lack of acceleration had her complete attention. They reached altitude quickly, and John turned the jumper so that she could see Atlantis resting in the sea.

It was beautiful, and they sat for a moment watching light glint off windows, off the sea.

"Here," he said, and turned the ship and accelerated upward. "Check this out."

"What?"

"You'll see."

They emerged into a star field like nothing she had seen before. She had been in deserts, but this was beyond that. At last she said, "It's a very big galaxy. You forget that, with stargates. All those addresses in the database are somewhere out here."

"Yep."

She turned toward him. His eyes were on the stars as well, but after a few seconds he looked at her. His eyes widened slightly, as if surprised to find her looking at him, and then his eyebrows rose just a little.

It was all the invitation she was ever going to get.

"You," she began. She hadn't rehearsed this, and felt unsure of how to say what she wanted to say. Her gratitude toward him was as immense as the star field.

His eyebrows rose a fraction more.

"I've never appreciated how good a soldier you are. Most of this happens off world, and reports don't -- "

He cut her off, turning back to the stars. "I thought you were dead."

There was something in his tone that made her look away, as if he needed privacy.

"I wanted to say thank you in a personal capacity," she said, more formally than she had intended, than she wanted.

"Any time," he said, and she knew that he meant it, and meant something more, but she did not want to think about what it might be.

She had toyed with the idea early on, as she always did with the attractive men she had to work with. She could look very attentive during boring meetings, but the men under her command would blush if they knew how raunchy her thoughts could be. It never went beyond thoughts. It was always better to let such things run their course safely in fantasy. She had learned that one the hard way. She wouldn't repeat it here.

***

She was no longer furious, but she was determined. She also did not know what she would do if he defied her again. He had the guns, literally. All she had were words, and she used the most direct ones she could, looking in his eyes and enunciating clearly. "That can never happen again." She tried to keep the hurt, the sense of betrayal, out of her voice.

Protest lingered on his face and in his words. He couldn't help but argue that, in the end, he saved them. She let onto her face none of the relief or gratitude that was mixed with her anger, and before she could say that they would have made it through another way -- and they would have; she had thought about it and was sure -- they were interrupted.

She watched him as much as she could through Rodney and Carson's news, and then the news that the nanovirus was meant to kill humans took all of her attention. Looking back, she thought she'd put a splinter under his confidence, which was not her intent. She worried, and she watched him over time. She had thought he trusted her, and despite his protests, she wasn't sure he did.

 _Act as if_ , she promised herself. _It will come._

***

"Happy birthday." He surprised her, and she made a show of questioning how he'd found out, but as the military commander, he had the same access she did to personnel records. It touched her that he would look. She knew it for the peace offering it was.

She looked at him. There was something lonely, longing, in his eyes, but nowhere else. Maybe she was only seeing her own isolation reflected there. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew what it wasn't. It wasn't sexual at all. She couldn't tell what he wanted, but she would give him what she could, given their roles. At that moment she could give a smile, and her genuine pleasure. For the moment, his eyes said, it might be enough.

***

"Teyla, please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Dr. Weir. May I ask the reason for this meeting?"

This was unusually direct for Teyla. She was as experienced a negotiator as anyone Elizabeth had ever met, and knew the pattern of niceties and small talk. Her hands were still in her lap, but there was tension in her shoulders.

Elizabeth came from behind her desk, and took a chair across from Teyla. "On Earth, it's common for a leader to meet with her team individually. This gives them the opportunity to discuss any issues, or conflicts, set goals." When Teyla furrowed her brow, Management 101 seemed a hopeless anachronism.

"We have many opportunities to speak. Do you not trust me to be open with you?"

"No, that's not it at all!" Elizabeth took a breath. "So often when we speak, there are immediate concerns that occupy our conversation. This is the opportunity to take a broader view, find patterns, maybe improve things. If anything needs improving."

"I see." Teyla nodded once. "What is it you wish to tell me?"

"I'm more interested in what you wish to tell me. It's been almost a year since you joined with us. How do you feel about the way things are going?"

Teyla's eyebrows arched. "Isn't that the kind of question Dr. Heightmeyer asks?"

Elizabeth couldn't stop her laughter. She so rarely had the chance to see Teyla's sense of humor. Teyla, she was glad to hear, laughed with her. It was more than the joke deserved, but it was fed by the tension it served to break.

"Okay, let's start over," she said when they recovered themselves. No, Management 101 was out the window, but she trusted her instinct to start including Teyla in her quarterly one-on-ones with her staff. The method needed to be different. "Let's go see if we can scare up a snack and some tea. I'd like to spend some time with you, and just talk, visit, be friends."

"We can be friends, can we not?" Teyla said as they rose and stepped out of the office. "We have not had much opportunity. The pace of life here is so different, and the opportunities to simply be together are rare."

"That's true," Elizabeth said, "and it's interesting. I'd like to know more about how you experience our habits of living."

"Oh?"

Elizabeth realized she'd fallen into the distanced, diplomatic mode. That wouldn't work with Teyla, not for this. The habit was getting too deep.

"No, seriously. I'm sure I make terrible assumptions. You seem to fit in with us so well, but it can't be easy, even after a year."

"I hardly know it has been a year. I think time, here, seems the most different."

"How so?"

They reached the mess hall and interrupted their conversation to get tea. There were only a few people there, mostly from the science team. When Elizabeth asked for cookies, she was not disappointed. They were flavored with a spice that had a flavor somewhere between cinnamon and anise, one the Athosians used for trade. They found a table and sat down.

Elizabeth held one up. "I miss chocolate chip cookies."

"They sound delicious. Chocolate may be one of Earth's best inventions. Do you think you will ever have more of it."

Elizabeth looked over the cookie to Teyla's face. "I hope we can contact Earth again someday, but I doubt they'll waste energy sending chocolate through the gate." She knew what Teyla was saying. Teyla was asking how Elizabeth was handling their exile, offering her the chance to take a broader view, find patterns, maybe improve things. Who was managing whom? It made her feel a little less alone.

Elizabeth said, "You were talking about time, and how time seems different for you in Atlantis."

"Yes," Teyla said, letting herself be led, it was clear. "Before coming here, my life was patterned by the seasons, by the turn of the year. Planting, hunting, harvest, making. Each came at the appointed time, the time when it had to happen or the people would suffer."

"Time law," Elizabeth said. "Our ancient history was similar, and some people refer to the time law as older than our code of laws. A law of necessity."

"Or necessities," Teyla said. "Many needs that must be met for survival."

"Our society has been released from that for no more than a few centuries."

"Your whole society? No one farms, or hunts?"

"Not the whole society. I mean, there is farming, or we wouldn't eat, but we trade all over our world, so even in winter there is fresh food."

"As we had when we traded through the stargate."

Elizabeth took note of Teyla's voice. There was a concern expressed that did not sit comfortably. "You know you have access to the gate."

"Not at our own choosing. Your people have been generous, but we rely on you more than we might wish. We are even more bound by your time law than we were before."

Elizabeth looked down, broke a piece of cookie, but did not eat it. Teyla was waiting for the answer to her larger question of how Elizabeth and the rest of the expedition were adapting to their exile. She could not answer.

"I must confess," Teyla said, raising her mug in two hands, "I have admired your code of laws. We have had nothing so explicit among the Athosians. Customs, traditions, yes, but this idea of the rule of law is not common. How did it come to be?"

"Well," said Elizabetth, stepping on to the familiar territory that Teyla had offered, "The oldest codified laws we have were from Hammurabi, about four thousand years ago.

"The first to write down the rules."

"Probably not the first, but the oldest surviving. We think of that as so long ago, but this city had been sunk into the ocean for six thousand years already when we were just trying to figure out how to get along...'

***

"Carson?"

"He won't want to see you. He doesn't want to see anyone. The retrovirus is moving so fast."

"I have to."

"It's pretty far along."

Carson looked away from her, and she knew that his professional restraint was being tested. Guilt and fear -- fear of what John might become, and fear of disappointing her.

"I know you're doing everything you can," she said. "You'll find a way."

In the back of her mind she heard herself add in a rueful tone, _That's a good boy_ , but she would never acknowledge it in a way anyone could see. She'd be stupid not to know some transference had occurred. She was the mother figure, like it or not, for the city. Some days she found it hard to live up to.

But not for John Sheppard. She wasn't sure what she was for him. She closed her eyes briefly to gather her own strength, and walked to Sheppard's quarters.

The yellow eyes were almost more than she could bear. They communicated nothing, flat and alien.

She told him how badly the first attempt to get material for his cure had gone, how they couldn't try again. "If you won’t, then kill me now," he said, and she believed that he meant it. She wondered if she could do it. He would, if the tables were turned. She would have to draw on his strength to give the order, if it came to that. She did not want it to come to that.

***

She kept her walks routine. In a life of crisis and stress, it was the one surety. This corridor led to that one. This next one took her by the greenhouses, which she had learned not to enter from the way the botanists straightened up and watched her warily, as if she might cross pollinate something. She had always liked greenhouses and botanical gardens, and it made her sad to stay away.

The farthest part of her loop took her past three balconies. There was a fourth, farther along, but at the third she usually turned down a corridor that led to a transporter she could use if she were tired or if a crisis came up. It was not an inhabited sector and she'd rarely seen anyone else here. Sometimes she stopped to look over the sea, but on the bad days it only made her think how much an island she was herself.

Tonight night there had been a flash of movement further up the corridor, someone going up to the fourth balcony. She suspected a tryst, and was torn between leaving them to their privacy and a curiosity stemming from having no access to the local gossip mills. She regretted not knowing who was seeing whom.

She stepped onto the third balcony, just barely far enough to see Rodney out at the railing, leaning on his hands. It was the last person she expected to be meeting someone in secret, but she was happy for him. He stood facing the ocean, but with his head cocked to one side, as if listening behind him. He hadn't been the figure she had seen. It was too slim.

Then a hand touched his back, a hand with a black wristband. She expected Rodney to turn in greeting, but he straightened his head to look out to the sea as John Sheppard wrapped himself around his back, and slid his hand up Rodney's shirt with no preamble.

She felt the blood drain from her face and backed away as silently as she could. She took the transporter across the city, and was in her quarters before her heart rate had finished accelerating. She did not want to know this, but with every attempt to put it out of her mind, the image of them, combined with fantasies she'd laid aside, kept coming back to her. She saw Sheppard's hand in her mind's eye, reaching for Rodney's back, and tried not to think about just how long it had been since she'd been touched.

The next day, she mapped a new route for her walks and set a general advisory against going into uninhabited areas between 23:00 and 05:00. It wasn't an order, just an advisory.

***

"So," she concluded, "Carson thinks that with what he can learn from the Nall carcass, and from the Iratus eggs, he can refine the virus. He thinks he'll have a new formulation to test in about two months."

John nodded, but didn't look at her. She didn't blame him. She could hear the formality and distance in her voice. She wanted to hug him, tell him how happy she was that they'd gotten him back, gotten both of them back, but it wasn't what they did, even in times like this. She learned that the hard way.

"You're not happy about Carson's work," she said.

"The retrovirus wasn't exactly good to me."

"Carson assures me he has a better understanding of the genetic combination of human and Iratus. He'll be careful."

John nodded, but he wasn't watching her. He was watching Rodney across the infirmary, getting his stitches removed. His face was thoughtful.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Elizabeth."

He used her name, and people did that more when they lied. She didn't think John was lying, _per se_ , but the habit of denial ran deep. "So you're going jogging with Ronon tomorrow?" she asked.

That earned her the half-smirk and glare, which made her feel more normal. Then he shifted in his infirmary bed, wincing at the wound in his side. "Yeah, right," he said.

She remembered how he had been while the retrovirus changed him, and afterwards as he healed, unwilling to be seen in weakness. This was something more. "Are you still angry that we used a nuclear bomb on the Takkan city?"

"No, I can see your point."

He didn't add anything about how they failed to save a hover car or that they had accomplished the Takkan's greatest fear by resettling the survivors on a planet where they would have to start from scratch. The omission worried her, but she nodded once. "Major Lorne has been handling the military for the last week. We're in a good place for the moment to be without you. You concentrate on getting better."

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled.

She squeezed his hand. It was all he would permit, and she stopped herself from smoothing his unruly hair.

She glanced back before she left the Infirmary. John was watching Rodney again, and not laughing at Rodney's protests. When Rodney looked up, looked back at him, John's expression was tinged with something she might call fear.

Something had happened in that exsanguination chamber. She doubted it would make it into their reports. She gotten used to the idea that they had each other, took something vicarious in the knowledge, although she couldn't have named it. It wasn't comfort, it was just something that made her happy that her people were happy. She hoped they would be all right, in every sense of the words.

***

Elizabeth kept the covers over her head for a long moment, then peeked out. She felt foolish, letting Caldwell get to her about a kiss that had happened when she wasn't in control of her own actions. To be honest, part of her had enjoyed it more than she liked to admit.

Sheppard was still sitting next to her bed. "Are you going to tell me _that can never happen again_?" He was teasing, his tone mimicking the way hers sounded over a year ago.

"No."

"Oh, so it _can_ happen again?"

She glared at him.

"Get some rest," he smiled, then faltered. "Would you rather be alone?"

She considered for a moment. Her first thought was that she wanted him to go, the odd echo of Phoebus' hate for Thalan prickling the back of her skull, but she thought John might need to stay for that same lingering emotion, needing to prove to himself that it wasn't real. "I won't be a sterling conversational partner."

"Not much for small talk, anyway." Under the mask of amusement, she could see something else. She knew him well enough to know that he thought he had failed her, had failed them all. It was so typical of him to take all the responsibility. There were days she wanted to kick him.

"John," she began.

"Don't worry. I've already had my ears blistered by McKay. I was stupid, irresponsible, should have seen through Phoebus..."

"Rodney was taken in as well. You know that. None of this is your fault. The general fault was to open the first pod without better precautions."

He nodded, as if conceding the point, but she doubted it.

She thought for a moment. It was something she could do with Shepard, who was comfortable with silence. Separating her feelings from Phoebus' was not easy, in part because she had to face that the words _vulnerable_ and _lonely_ applied only to herself. But John was John, and not Thalan, and she was not alone in this experience. "You know what it was like. It was almost overwhelming. Was it as bad with Thalan?"

Sheppard nodded.

"You're not," she began, and then changed tack. She had been about to say that John might not be as familiar with such strong emotions, but that did not seem like a fair assumption. "Are you okay?"

"Dr. Heightmeyer seems to think so." It was all the acknowledgement he was likely to give that he wasn't entirely okay.

"Is Rodney okay?"

He looked a bit curious, as if wondering why she asked him. "I think so."

"Are you and Rodney okay?" This was a big gamble, and she almost regretted it when his face froze.

She lay back on her pillow, and pretended to ramble. "I won't mention it again, and I don't think anyone else knows, and I'm sure I'm just uninhibited by Carson's drugs, but I saw you two on the balcony once, not enough to see anything, but enough, and I thought you should know that I know so that if by chance you ever need someone to talk to..." She closed her eyes, giving him an out.

He shifted in the chair next to her, but did not leave. Eventually he said, "It's all right."

She knew he was answering the question she asked, and the one she hadn't.

***

She had spent a long hour in her rooms, pacing, sitting with her arms crossed, pacing again. In the wake of the IOA investigation she had questioned herself as much as they had, looking back on how sure and purposeful she had presented herself to be, and wondering why they believed it. She was having trouble believing it.

Woolsey had shaken her when he hadn't meant to. She was familiar with the idea of agreeing upon a truth, but to have one created about her was disturbing. She did not make the decision to destroy the camp, but Woolsey would report that she had, and had looked at her and said, "But you would have, if, hypothetically, you had been apprised of the situation."

And there it was. She was no longer a real person. She was a symbolic Elizabeth Weir, a leader to whom decisions would be ascribed and whose motives could be analyzed out of context. The façade she had spent so long maintaining had become other people's reality in a way that she could no longer control.

It was a frightening thought.

An hour by herself had brought her nothing. She needed someone who would tell her when she was being stupid, would bring her down to Earth. She tapped her radio on the command frequency. "Weir to McKay."

"McKay."

"Rodney, do you have a minute?"

"In my entire life, or at this particular moment?"

His irritation made her smile. "At this particular moment."

He sighed dramatically. "I suppose I can put this aside if it's important."

"Please, Rodney."

"On my way. McKay out."

He came to her office, and she led him through the corridors to the closest balcony. They walked out together, a familiar thing to do, but after her trip to Earth, she felt as if it were new, as if the world had shifted around her in a way she could not quite place.

"Dr. McKay," she started. "Rodney." The conversation was going to be part professional, part personal, and she didn't know how to handle it. Title? Name?

"Dr. Weir. Elizabeth." He was teasing, but he kept his face straight.

"I don't know how to begin this conversation."

"This is about Woolsey, isn't it? He's an idiot."

"It's about decisions."

"Are you questioning Colonel Sheppard's decision to destroy the camp? There really wasn't an option you know."

She shook her head. "I'm questioning whether I would have been able to make that decision. Woolsey will report to the IOA that it was my order. Something about inconvenient facts not getting in the way of a greater truth."

"Yet another reason to hate politicians. Facts are all that matter, but they treat them like modeling clay. But you said he's recommending that you stay."

She nodded.

He turned and leaned on the balcony with his back to the night and the sea, his eyes shifting from her face to the corridor behind her, guarding her. It was a Sheppard move. "So what's the catch?"

"There is no catch. That's, that's not what I wanted to talk with you about."

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head one time, and glanced at him. The gentle concern in his eyes surprised her. "Shouldn't you be talking to Heightmeyer?"

"I don't need someone to just ask me questions. I have enough of my own."

"You don’t need someone to rubber stamp your decisions, either."

"As if I'd go to you for that." She hoped the joke would help restore her equilibrium. His answering smile helped more. She took a breath. "I okayed the destruction of the Takkan society."

"No, the Nall did that. We just accidentally set them loose. _You_ vaporized the proto-Wraith bug life-sucking..." He trailed off, and finished, "Things. Not to mention an infrastructure supporting a twisted culture that made people bleed to death to feed them. You can imagine I have some feelings on the matter."

"But the Takkan city, Rodney, and all that technology. Last time we checked on them they were building huts and breaking ground for crops. They don't know how to do this."

"We helped them. Teyla's people have helped them."

"They were an advanced civilization. They had hover cars, I recall you telling me."

"And as much as I wish we'd managed to salvage one of those, I have no regrets. They were a _manufactured_ civilization," he said. "The Wraith created them."

She looked at him, and watched the expression in his eyes lose some of the vehemence as he saw the parallel and said. "And we manufactured those Wraith into humans."

"We came here to explore, to make new friends. We’ve been incredibly destructive. A solar system -- "

"Just five sixths," Rodney said, the defense a reflex. "Mostly, we've defended ourselves," he said, and she heard Sheppard in his voice.

She nodded. "And then some," she said, but her mind wasn't on the conversation anymore. She was overtaken by a sad wash of jealousy. He and Sheppard, they had each other.

She began to detach from herself, her vision narrowing to the blackness of the star field and the sea, her body at once cocooned and shattering.

The sensation lasted only a moment, but she came to herself leaning against the solid weight of his body.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, starting to pull away.

She was not a symbol, and she was not an island, and she was so damned alone. This wasn't why she initiated the conversation, but she could see where it was going. She had wanted to talk about being a leader and making decisions, and she knew John would never want to talk. Rodney was the closest thing, besides John, to her equal. He made decisions that affected lives. No one like Heightmeyer would never understand. Rodney might never understand, but John did, and John had Rodney, and she had no one.

"Elizabeth?"

The risk was unimaginable. "Rodney," she said softly, "I need my head put back in my body. I need -- " She stepped back from him to look at his face, but found she couldn't look up. She could feel her palms sweating. If he didn't understand what she was asking, if she had to be blunt, she couldn't do it. If he understood and turned her down, what would that do to his ability to follow her, to her ability to give John orders? Because he would have to tell John. What would it do to them if he said yes? It was about trust and need, and she had to trust that it would be all right in the end, because without someone to show her she was just one woman, she was going to have a hard time holding on to herself.

She had called on Rodney so that she could talk, but that was the last thing she needed. She took his hand and placed it in the center of her chest.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment she was sure he was looking for a way to let her down gently. She thought better of him for it. If it was about trust, she could not ask him to betray John.

She swallowed and said, "I understand you're a package deal."

His eyes flew open, something wild in them that almost frightened her. He took his hand off her and tapped his headset. "McKay to Sheppard."

"Sheppard." Elizabeth heard the voice in her own ear piece. He was using their command frequency.

"I've been thinking."

Sheppard didn't answer immediately, and Elizabeth though it must be a code phrase or inside joke. "I can wrap this up in about five minutes," he said at last.

"That means ten."

There was an intimacy in the exchange that reminded her of what she was asking, and she almost shook her head. It was started, though, and she couldn't let it go.

Sheppard's voice said, "The longer we talk, the longer it'll take. Any hint as to what you've been _thinking_ about?"

"N plus one."

That brought silence again from the other end of the radio. When John answered, he sounded unsure. "Plus one?"

"Yeah."

"You're on the command frequency." John knew she could hear them, and would draw the right conclusion.

Rodney looked at her. "Yeah."

She tapped her own earpiece. Her voice shook more than she expected. "John if you're busy, this isn't necessary."

"On the contrary," Rodney said, looked her in the eye. "I think it is. But, your call, Colonel."

There was another long pause that made her stomach clench, and Elizabeth was afraid the answer would be no, but then she noticed Rodney wasn't rushing in to fill the silence. She was amused that there was _something_ in the world that could make Rodney McKay hold his peace. She was worried that she was asking too much of them. She was desperately hopeful that they would take her out of herself. Her shoulders hunched as she waited for the answer, barely breathing.

Into Rodney's silence, John said, "Are you sure about this?'

"Trust me." Rodney looked at Elizabeth as he said it. He addressed both of them.

"Yep." Sheppard said, as she nodded, relaxing a fraction.

Rodney led the way from the balcony, and she followed, both of them striding purposefully down the hall as if for some command crisis. They reached the residential area where Rodney had his room, and after a quick glance up the hall, he opened his door, standing aside to let her go in first.

She had never been in his quarters, and in her nervousness she almost laughed when she saw the picture of him with one of his diplomas, and the framed diplomas themselves. It was so like Rodney to bring his academic credentials as personal items, although he had probably gotten them shipped as vital equipment.

He stepped up behind her, placing his hands gingerly on her shoulders, and then more surely when she leaned back into him. She reached up for his hands, found them damp.

"He'll be nervous," he whispered in her hair.

"So am I," she admitted. Nervous didn't begin to cover it.

"He never told me you knew. About him and me." Rodney dug his fingers into her shoulders, and she tried to relax into it.

"I saw you on the balcony," she said, "almost a year ago."

Rodney's hands stilled. "How much did you see."

"Just enough to know there was something going on. I let John know after Phoebus and Thalan."

"That explains something," Rodney said, thumbs pushing in again. "I thought he was having a hard time dealing with the fact that he'd kissed you. To be honest," Rodney paused, and the massage became a caress, "I thought it was kind of hot."

She liked hearing that, but she had to voice her concern before there was no turning back. "I'm asking a lot of you. I don't want to risk your relationship."

Rodney's laugh surprised her. "I'm not sure I'm in a relationship. Sheppard's -- " He broke off and searched for the word, finally finishing with, "Complicated."

She could hear frustration and tenderness in his voice, and a certain wisdom. It was that wisdom that gave her hope that this might be okay. She had to give him a final out. "If I'm asking too, much, I'll understand."

His hands swept down her arms and back to her shoulders. "Whatever you need."

At the sound of the door, he moved away from her, shielding her from John, it felt. John looked straight at Rodney, questions in his eyes. "Elizabeth is here," Rodney said, quietly. He stepped to the side and watched John as John turned his gaze to her.

"I'm -- " she began. "Please? It's not, I'm not trying to, I just -- " Saying anything to John was infinitely harder than talking with Rodney, and that had been difficult enough. Either he would understand, or he wouldn't.

In his eyes she saw it. Surprise, first, then the wordless equivalent of Rodney's _Whatever you need_ , and she hoped that it was not because she was one of 'his' people, but because she was Elizabeth Weir, and that might mean something to him. She hoped he could see the matching thought in her eyes. She trusted him enough to need him, to show this weakness.

John turned back to Rodney. He seemed about to speak, but Rodney nodded. John stepped toward her, questions in his eyes, but her mouth was dry and all she could do was nod as well. He took his face in her hands, and kissed her. It started with a pressure of lips, a couple of closed-mouth kisses, and then his fingers tightened gently, moving into her hair, and he opened his mouth. They asked, and answered, with lips and tongue and teeth. The kiss was as much a conversation as any she had experienced.

She thought she heard a snort from Rodney, and John broke the kiss, reaching back, and drawing Rodney to them. Then he stepped away, moving to the bed, where he sat and methodically pulled off his boots. She could feel Rodney laughing, but trying not to let it show. "Come on," he said, helping her take off her jacket. He pushed his hands under her shirt, his thumbs moving surely over her waist and stomach, slipping around and pulling it up and off.

She raised her arms and let him strip her, watching John shuck his clothes efficiently. Rodney's movements on her body were gentle, but not delicate, caressing as he loosened her slacks, firm as he slid her bra straps down her arms.

It was reassuring. It was arousing. It was exactly what she needed.

John took a step toward her and stopped, and the look on his face said he was not sure. She was disrupting whatever pattern it was they had, and that made her worry that this was the wrong thing to be doing. She let Rodney guide her toward the bed, coax her to sit, and she felt self-conscious when she realized that he was still fully clothed. Then John knelt in front of her, nude himself and kissing her again, touching her, his hands more tentative than Rodney's. She reached for his chest, threading her fingers through the hair, and then sliding her palm down his side, lean muscle shivering under her touch. When his hand reached for her breast, she slid her fingers back up until she found his nipple, and they mirrored touches with one, then both hands.

The sound of cloth told her that Rodney was undressing. John moved her up the bed so that her head was on the pillow, then looked at Rodney, who was climbing on to the bed at the foot, nudging her legs apart, and making himself comfortable. He wrapped one arm around her leg and over her stomach and then began to lick.

He was precise in this, as with so many things, finding what she liked best, and then teasing her with it. She forced her eyes open and saw John watching him, rapt, his face flushed and the tremor of his heartbeat visible in his neck. The sight was as arousing as the tongue on her clit and the finger that Rodney slid into her at that moment. It was also reassuring, somehow, that he was watching Rodney, and she relaxed and let herself gasp at the second finger. John kissed her briefly before sliding his mouth down to her breasts, using his fingers and tongue. It was softer than she wanted, and that slight frustration kept her from losing herself as much as she had hoped.

But, still, it was enough, and she was getting close, and she wanted more, wanted weight on her and breath in her ear. She moved her hips away from Rodney's mouth as much as she could with his arm over her stomach. "Now, please?"

She had expected Rodney to move up the bed and enter her, but instead he backed away, and John settled himself between her legs. Rodney's hands moved her knees up, and she could feel him guide John into her. Her breath caught, reeling at the image, at the trust and the gift, and she forgot to breathe again as she started coming, every stroke ratcheting her sensations up until it took her over and she groaned into John's mouth and ground hard against him. She caught her breath between kisses, and felt the tension in him. "Yes," she said, "it's okay," and he reared up and drove his hips into her until he froze, with his mouth -- his face -- open, vulnerable, and ecstatic.

When he recovered himself he leaned down and kissed her softly, then withdrew, lying next to her. The bed shifted as Rodney lay on her other side, and with his solid touch he pulled her on top, shifting them toward the center of the bed. She could have slid down and taken him inside, but they both looked at John. He ran his hand down her back and reached down, taking his turn and guiding Rodney into her.

He felt different. Thicker, and not as long, and differently satisfying. She moved to kiss him, but he dodged without appearing to, and bit her jaw, then her neck. His hands were firm on her body, sliding from ribs to thighs and back again. She rode him slowly, not worrying about whether she would come again, just enjoying living in her body, him in her body, and the warmth of John next to them., all of it real and solid.

She pushed herself up to look at Rodney, and he took the opportunity to put his hands on her breasts and stretch up to take a nipple in his mouth. _This_ was the pressure she wanted, almost hurting, skirting the edge, and she closed her eyes for a moment. John's hand stroked down her back and then past, on to Rodney's legs, she assumed, then up to feel where they were joined before trailing over her ass and up her back again. He tilted her head up to kiss her briefly before returning to the long strokes of his hand. She and Rodney rocked slowly for several more minutes, motion restricted by his mouth on her nipples, and then he lay back and brought a finger to her mouth.

She sucked it in, recognizing her disappointment that things had moved so fast that she had not had the chance to have either of them in her mouth. She could feel both of them watching her as she tongued his finger, but her motions were for herself more than for them. The finger was blunt and broad and good in her mouth, and she bit gently. He smiled, then pulled it back, bringing it to his own mouth and removing it wet and glistening.

As he reached down she realized what he intended and willed herself to relax as he slid the finger into her ass. It was something she hadn't done in a long while. Only one of her lovers had made it a habit, but Simon didn't like even the idea, had only done it once, and then only because she asked. She felt like Rodney had her completely then, and she couldn't move, letting Rodney thrust into her in short motions as he kept the finger still, but she couldn't help making a pleading noise. Then she felt a second hand on her ass, and Rodney pulled out his finger. John's replaced it, slicker than saliva could make it.

All motion stopped then, other than John's finger. He dropped his head to kiss her on the shoulder, and she turned her head toward him, looking him in the eye and giving him permission, her heart in her throat. This was something she had never done.

John moved between their legs. She could feel Rodney's breathing stutter as he realized what was going to happen, and she buried her face in his neck, waiting. This time she was glad for John's gentleness as she felt him position himself and move forward. It was much bigger than his finger, and he paused with just the head inside. She could feel herself spasm around him, and forced herself to relax against the burn. But it was almost overwhelming, and she sighed with every breath.

"Are you okay?" Rodney whispered.

She nodded against his neck, and pushed back to John to let him know she was ready for more.

After that, there was nothing but sensation, breaking her apart and centering her at the roots of her body. This was what she needed, and God she had never imagined that this could be so _good_. They moved together perfectly inside her and she could barely keep track of who was stroking, who was pausing, and then she couldn't think at all. Orgasm and heat, groans and gasps, and no awareness of where one started and the other stopped. She could feel tears falling from her face as she arched back toward John, her head on his shoulder, his breath in her hair, and Rodney's hands firm on her face, shoulders, and breasts.

She never knew when it ended, or how. When her headset beeped and woke her, she first thought it had been a dream, and was surprised to find herself between them. Rodney handed her the radio and got out of bed, bright eyed enough that she was sure he had not slept.

"Weir," she said, standing up.

"Sorry to call you ma'am, but Lorne's team just radioed in to confer with you."

"I'll be right there."

Rodney came back with a wet washcloth and a towel, and did not look as she quickly cleaned herself. He occupied himself by laying out her clothes in order at the foot of the bed, jacket on the bottom and underwear on top. He slid back in the bed next to John as she dressed. She glanced back as she reached the door to see John blinking and sitting up. She left before he could say anything.

She walked through the corridors to the closest transporter, combing her hair with her fingers. When she reached the gate room, she felt almost composed.

"Do you still have contact with Lorne's team?"

"Yes, ma'am," said the technician. Late shift. Thorne, she reminded herself.

She nodded to him. "This is Weir," she said.

Major Lorne's tone of voice surprised her. "I pray, Madam, that you will receive this messenger's call, and forgive him for disturbing our highest leader." He sounded positively courtly. If she hadn't known him better, she might have missed the irony. He must be dealing with some extremely formal society, and she assumed they were listening in.

"Major Lorne, you are a most respected and honored member of this expedition. I trust that your wish for my attention is most warranted."

"My lady," he said, then paused. "I humbly apologize for such a trivial matter, but our hosts here in Tilten are not accustomed to... men who may act. They are unused to a lady such as yourself delegating so important a task as trade to a man."

Elizabeth took a second to decide strategy. "My dear Major, must I come through the gate myself and bestow my blessing in their presence? Would they better believe that I trust you with this matter were I to tell them in person?" She shot for a combination of hauteur, concern, and boredom. It would work, or he would be through the gate with a mob on his heels.

She heard conferring on the other side, and then an unfamiliar voice speaking into Lorne's radio. "We apologize, Lady Elizabeth, for doubting your servant."

"Accepted," she said. "Treat him as you would me. Lady Elizabeth out."

Thorne's expression was priceless, and as soon as the wormhole closed, she said to him, "You can laugh at me, but please not at the major. It's not his fault." They shared a smile, and she turned herself back to the transporter.

She could not simply go back to her rooms. There had to be some kind of, not closure, but something. She went back to Rodney's room, and hesitated at the door.

There were voices. She took a breath, suddenly nervous, and knocked.

"Come in."

"Sorry about that. I, I didn't want to just leave." She took off her headset, and found herself twirling it in her fingers.

"Crisis solved?" John asked.

"Nothing major, just details." There was no way she would tell him of Lorne's predicament. Let him find out whatever sanitized version ended up in the mission report. "Everything is details."

She sighed, wondering what would happen now, what would be the details of this new wrinkle in their friendship, their _relationship_. She was about to open her mouth to thank them and say that it shouldn't happen again when John said, "Coming back to bed?"

That surprised her, and tempted her, but she answered, "I should, you know. I should be seen coming out of my own quarters in the morning." She hated the nervousness in her voice.

"I know," John said, and he had to, really. He had Rodney had been seeing each other for almost a year, now, and she doubted anyone else knew.

She felt herself shifting feet, not sure of what to say next, not sure yet if this would be just the one time, or the first time, and then John got out of bed. He walked as if unconscious of his nudity, and took her hands in his, stopping the fingers that twirled her head set. When he bent his forehead to hers, something in her stilled.

"You're in command," he said, "out there and in here. We're here when you need us."

That put the ball in her court, but command wasn't what she wanted. Or maybe he was trying to say that he wouldn't let anything change. "Moral support?" she asked, wincing inside as she realized the phrase might trivialize what they had done for her.

Rodney piped up from the bed, "And immoral support, from some small-minded points of view."

John grinned down at her, appreciating Rodney's joke. "And morale support."

The puns were terrible, but the lightness was just what she needed. It left her unready for John's next remark, though.

"We love you."

It was the last thing she had ever thought John Sheppard might say, and she could tell form his eyes it had surprised him, too. She pulled in her feelings. He did not need sentiment or verbal reciprocation. He probably didn't want to be reminded that he had said it, but she knew he needed a sign that their professional relationship would not suffer. She said, "You're not going to stop arguing with me, are you?"

"Nope," he said, and gave her a small smile. The look in his eyes told her she had made the right choice. John asked, "You're not going to stop sending us off to certain death, are you?"

"Please, God, I hope so," groaned Rodney, but she dismissed it for the theatrics she knew it was.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, but with the ball in her court, she had to give them something. She was afraid to interfere what they had, but she didn't want them to think she was here for a one night stand, that she had used them only for her needs. She said, "Sometime... again?" hoping that it implied everything she felt.

"Sometime again," John answered. His eyes were open to her, and his brief glance toward Rodney told her that there was more involved in this that she might ever know. She looked at Rodney, and he nodded once, looking pleased with himself, but not smug. They would talk, the two of them, but for now, with John in the room, the few words were enough. She looked at John again and squeezed his hands before turning toward the door.

***

"Rodney, a moment."

"Busy here." He didn't look up from his computer. "And why are you in my lab at this time of night? Morning."

"Ronon and Teyla really think you kept back some of Lucius's formula. The one that makes someone irresistible?"

"I recall, and don't remind me about that embarrassing moment. I think I may have actually imitated a primate and tried to convince Sheppard that it was cute."

"They think you used it on Sheppard to get him to clean your room , and they came to me with their concerns. Teyla was disgusted with you."

Rodney glanced around the room. It was empty. It was two in the morning.

"They may have... seen something." He was turning red.

"But you're not sure?"

Rodney shook his head.

"So better to let them think you drugged Sheppard?"

"He went along with it! I have to protect him."

"They're not military, Rodney. They're not even from our galaxy. Do you think they'll care?"

He shook his head. "The colonel thinks it will cause a problem in the field."

She knelt down next to his chair. "I have a suggestion. Tell them. Tell them how long it's been going on. If you have to, you can tell them you have my blessing. They're smart people, Rodney. They can see that it hasn't changed anything."

He folded his arms across his chest and nodded, looking at his knees.

"Their doubt of you will harm the team worse. Tell John that, or I will." She was breaking an unspoken rule, and she did not take the risk lightly, but she was angry. "That was colossally stupid."

She felt tired, and the insomniac buzz drained out of her as she stood. He glanced up at her and sighed, then froze, looking past her. She turned, and saw Sheppard in the door way. He leaned against the frame wearing jeans and a button shirt over a T-shirt. It was rare to see him in civilian clothes.

"You heard?" she asked.

"Yep. It was colossally stupid."

"And?"

"I was coming to find out why Rodney hadn't come home. Again."

The use of the word home should have surprised her. It didn't.

Rodney stood up, but did not answer.

"It's done," Sheppard said. "I told them."

"And?" Elizabeth asked again.

"We're fine. They're relieved. They _said_ they thought we secretly hated each other, but I think they'd already figured it out. Like you said, they're smart people."

"And now?"

"Ronon said, 'Oh.' Teyla looked like it explained a lot of things. I'm not sure I want to know what it explained. I think we're good to go."

"I have to ask -- " Elizabeth began.

John shook his head. "That's not their business."

"No, it's not. Thank you," she said. It had only happened once. and that weeks ago.

"We won't compromise your position, through, uh, compromising positions," Rodney said.

John rolled his eyes. "Will you ever grow up?"

She smiled just as much as the joke was worth. "It's more than that," she said. She did not know how to say what she meant. She was honored that they had let her in, and the time with them was precious because she had trusted them enough to entirely let go. She felt like she'd received more than she had given, and they wanted it that way, and she was grateful, but understood it kept her separate from them. Expressing any of that might embarrass them, might change things. All she said was to repeat, "Thank you."

John surprised her by seeming to pick up on what she didn't say, stepping toward her and putting a hand on her shoulder. Rodney came up on the other side, and placed a palm on the small of her back. They both leaned in to her, touching foreheads in a triangle, saying nothing. The moment was brief, but it was all she needed.

"Good night, gentlemen," she said, and took herself back to bed.

***

It was strange to be back in her quarters in Atlantis. The world the nanites had constructed in her brain was so real, had made her doubt everything she remembered. Carson had released her only a few minutes ago, and she had come straight back here.

She wanted a shower, and tea, and emails about water use and assignment of gate missions for botanists.

Her door signaled, and she said, "Come in."

John and Rodney were there. Rodney walked in, and John cleared the door enough to let it close, then leaned on the frame.

"Gentlemen?"

Rodney looked to John, who shrugged.

Rodney said, "We didn't know if you might, you know."

It was sweet of them really, and they looked a bit unsure. She put her hand on Rodney's shoulder, since he was closest. It wasn't what she needed.

"John?"

"Whatever you need," he said, but she was watching his eyes to see if it was something _he_ needed. No, they told her, they were here for her.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm all right. I just want a shower and some time." She squeezed Rodney's shoulder, and led him to the door, to John.

"Sleep well," John said.

"I intend to stay awake for a good long time, immersed in the trivia of Atlantis." She smiled. "I think my email is probably out of hand."

"I, uh, expanded the size of your inbox while you were, um," Rodney said.

"I'm not sure if I should thank you for that. I'll see you tomorrow."

John still looked unsure, questioning. She was touched that they would offer her this, but the offer was enough.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Thank you. For everything."

She could tell he knew she meant it, and if he looked relieved, she chose to believe it was relief for her safe recovery.

***

In the conference room, after everyone left, Elizabeth said, "You would have been proud of him, John. He sounded just like you." She had been having trouble containing her relief, staying cool and professional as they reported on the mission to bring him back from the Genii.

Sheppard looked up, first at her, then at Rodney. "Like me?"

Rodney looked at her, a slight flush on his cheeks. "We don't need to talk about that, okay? Carson has given me enough grief."

Sheppard started to smile. "Over what?"

When Rodney didn't answer, she said, "Oh, he gave your 'by the numbers' speech to the Marines. It was note perfect."

"And they took it?"

" _I_ believed him."

Rodney nodded, his flush now a deep crimson. "Carson. Carson gave me one of those British _what are you on about_ s?"

"But the Marines?"

Elizabeth answered, "They understood. Rodney's a member of your team. You have to have rubbed off on him some."

She was unprepared for the choking sound from both men, and then it was her turn to blush. "I suppose I'm, uh, keeping you from something." She looked at the PDA in her hands, not able to read anything on it, torn between laughing and sliding under the table in embarrassment at her unintended pun. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

There was a long silence, and no one moved. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Sheppard said.

She wasn't sure, and then she looked up. Rodney was looking at Sheppard, but Sheppard was looking at her. It was clear in his eyes that he was the one who needed to be taken apart. She had been so focused on controlling her own reactions, she had missed the vibration under his surface. He had faced sudden death bravely, but the draining by the captive Wraith had been something different. She said, "Whatever you need."

She looked at Rodney as they rose from the table. He nodded, and she caught up to him as they reached the door. "This is for John," she said quietly.

His mouth tightened, and she knew there was some jealousy, a desire to have John to himself, but a greater desire to give John what he thought he needed. She wasn't sure why John wanted her there, but she went with them, hoping she could give back to them what they had given her.

In Rodney's quarters John stripped methodically, sitting on the bed. Rodney joined him, bending down to take off his shoes. She knew she was seeing into their life together, and felt privileged. She followed their lead, sitting on Rodney's desk chair to take off her own boots and socks. She left her clothes on the desk in a neat pile, then pushed John back on the bed.

He was already hard, but she kept her hands on his chest. She attacked one nipple with her mouth, feeling Rodney above her, kissing John. She backed off for a moment to watch them, the sight warming her entire center. They were beautiful together, and she had missed seeing that last time, caught up in her own needs.

She explored his chest with her mouth, learning what he liked, what tickled. She kissed her way down his stomach until the head of his cock brushed her cheek. Rodney's hand was around the base of it, fingers tucked under the balls. He wasn't stroking; the grip was possessive. She reached out her tongue to lick, then stretched her mouth, using lips and tongue to learn the contours of his head. John's groan was muffled by Rodney's mouth, and the image of them kissing stoked her own heat.

She sucked him in, shifting her angle to take more, to fill her mouth and her throat until her lips reached Rodney's hand. When she backed off, he followed her, his fingers exploring the shape of her mouth stretched around John's shaft, and she heard something deep in Rodney's chest. This was as it should be, and her emotions, the relief at John's survival and the concern over interfering with their relationship collapsed into a focused goal. This was nothing to do with her or her desires, and everything to do with John's needs.

After several moments of this she moved back off the bed, and opened the drawer of the night stand. If they were having sex, they must have lubricant somewhere. For this to be about John, whatever he needed her for, they didn't need her between them again. So, something else, then.

She found what she was looking for, applied the lotion to her fingers, and leaned back in to take John in her mouth again. She lifted his leg and reached around his thigh to start rubbing her slick fingers behind Rodney's, down, and across John's entrance. John froze, and she was afraid she had made a bad assumption, but experimentally she slid her fingers back again. The noise that came out of him was high, needy, and she heard Rodney say, "Oh, God."

She had never done this to someone else, so she was careful, rubbing circles until she felt the muscle lose some of its tightness, then sliding a finger inside. She could hear Rodney's breath hitch underneath John's groan. She slid her finger back, and then in again, and she heard him draw a breath that ended with the muffle of Rodney kissing. John's hips moved, thrusting into her mouth and back onto her finger.

The sense of power surprised her, and the intimacy of breaching his body both shook her and excited her, but this was not for her.

She let his cock slide out of her mouth, and leaned over to kiss where Rodney's hand still gripped the base of John's cock, continuing to slide her finger in and out. She looked up. John's head was thrown back and his chest was heaving. Rodney looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before -- possessive and aroused, questioning and uncertain. She scooped some of the lotion and reached across, past John's stomach, toward Rodney's cock. She took him in hand, preparing him as well as John, feeling that it was all _right_. When she looked at him again, he looked as if he were in pain, his eyes closed. She stopped stroking and watched him until they opened. He looked at her and shook his head with the smallest of motions.

Was it reticence because she was there? She would not let that pass. She looked pointedly at her hand with its finger in John's ass, at John, who was starting to moan, and at her other hand where it held Rodney's cock, solid and firm, but twitching in her grip as if he were fighting for control, and then arched her eyebrow. Rodney closed his eyes again, swallowed, and moved the hand on John's cock, sliding his fingers down until he pushed one in to join hers.

"Jesus! Oh, God, please." John's hips moved as if looking for sensation from the air on his cock, and pushing back on them both.

She let go of Rodney's cock, and pulled on his arm, tugging him across John, and he followed, keeping his finger with hers in John's ass, and adding another as he settled himself between John's legs, which were raised up now.

Elizabeth removed her finger, and pulled John's legs up. John groaned something that sounded like, "Oh." She took the lotion and poured more in her hand and on John's upraised ass. She slicked Rodney again, pulled his fingers away, and guided his cock forward, barely keeping her breath and stunned that she was allowed to do this, but liking the symmetry of it being her turn. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of John's chest, and let her guide his cock to John's entrance. Then he pushed.

She felt it in her belly, that moment of penetration, spreading like heat through her. She leaned back and watched them. They remained motionless in a hot and beautiful tableau, but then she realized that John's eyes were open now, and he and Rodney were looking at each other as if afraid. She knew, then, that they had never done this before, and it scared her that she might have pushed them too far. They held still, eyes locked, fear changing to surprise, to joy, as John tilted his head back and said, "Yes. God, yes. Do it."

Something in Rodney seemed to unwind and he began to move, rocking both of them until he was all the way in. She touched his shoulder and nodded toward her clothes, thinking that she didn't belong here anymore, but he shook his head and looked down pointedly to John's cock, which was standing away from his body, glistening at the tip.

She placed her hand at the base of John's cock and leaned in to kiss him. He reached for her head and opened his mouth to her, and it was like that first kiss -- a conversation, and an added sense of desperate thanks. She tried to tell him how she felt, the odd combination of joy and shyness at being here with them this very first time.

She broke the kiss and moved her head down, taking the head of his cock in her mouth, enjoying the feel of it as she slid down the shaft, matching the rhythm of Rodney's hips as best she could. She just stroked with her mouth, trying not to call attention to herself. Soon it was Rodney who said, "Oh, God. Oh, God." His body was trembling above her, as if he were trying to hold back and failing. His motion stuttered and froze as he came, but before he could recover, John's hips moved, asking for more, and Rodney was loud, hissing from what she thought had to be hypersensitivity as he kept moving and gave John what he needed.

Elizabeth did what she could to help bring John over, and reaching up to his nipples seemed to be the final thing he needed. When she felt the first shudders in his cock, she backed off to stroke him, feeling diffident about keeping John's orgasm to herself. When she saw Rodney watching her hand, watching John's semen rope down his own torso, she felt strangely comfortable as the outsider. It belonged to them.

Rodney pulled out, hissing again, and she rose to find a towel in his bathroom, giving them this moment alone. They were kissing when she came back, lazy and smiling. She wiped up John, and then Rodney, and as she turned back to the bathroom, John grabbed her arm. Rodney took the towel and threw it, and they pulled her up between them.

"You're not going anywhere yet," John said.

"Nope," Rodney agreed.

"It's okay. I should go."

"No," John said, and Rodney slid down the bed, his fingers finding evidence of her arousal.

She heard him chuckle as his mouth moved down, and between the two of them, they pulled pleasure from her until she could hardly breathe.

***

Rodney caught up with her after the weekly staff meeting the next day. "Um, Elizabeth?"

His quick check of the corridor told her this was not personnel matter. "Yes, Rodney."

"Thank you, for, you know. I'm not sure we would have done that without you."

She'd had a feeling it was true, and her fear that she had pushed them too far resurged. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Better than fine. A little sore, and I've just gone into the realm of too much information, which is funny if you think about it, since -- "

She cut him off with a raised palm. She didn't need to know. "I'm glad. For you both."

Sheppard caught up with her that afternoon in her office.

"I just wanted to thank you in a personal capacity." He sounded formal, but mocking, and she remembered her words in the puddlejumper after the storm. It felt like a lifetime ago. It amused her no end that he would use them with her.

"Any time," she said, echoing his response then.

She caught a momentary flash of worry in his eyes. She didn't want him to think she was trying to insinuate herself into their relationship. She was no longer jealous that they had each other, merely happy for them. "I don't mean that literally," she said. "It's all right, John. You're home.

***

She worked her way through her messages after Carson left. The mortification at him finding her sitting in a mess of takeout food cartons, one she was sure was a week old, gave her the motivation to clean up the apartment and herself. With a fresh mug of tea and a cleared table, she listened to the increasingly concerned voices, and began to note the people she would have to call back. Eventually. Email was more than she could face. It seemed more real than the disembodied voices, for some reason.

She listened through Rodney's diatribes. At the end of each message, all he ever said was, "So, uh, yeah. Um, Bye." The third time, she actually laughed. Sheppard left only one message, and it was almost a month old.

"Uh, hi, Elizabeth. Look, there's an email from me you should probably delete. I was drunk. Thanks. Bye."

With that, she had to go to her computer. Her inbox was clogged, but a quick search revealed nothing from john.sheppard@dsrt.mil. Then, something caught her eye. PX4_575@yahoo.com. Of all the planet addresses he could have picked, why Takkan?

The subject line was blank, and it was marked as junk mail. She opened it. It was addressed to her and someone called doubleDr@hushmail.com. Rodney, most likely.

> This sucks. It was home there. You were home. This is the most I've had to drink since we got back,and the headache will be e bitch but I had to try and no it doesn't work. I'm drunk even the godfuckingdamed Wild Turkey isn't enough and I hate sloppy "I love you little fucker" drunks anyway. Hatinmyself about now

It was then that she cried. After the weeks of paralysis and depression, she let herself feel everything that she had shut down. It took John, John who was so bad at these things, saying _something_ for her to admit everything to herself. The idea of going out to dinner was no longer so difficult to imagine.

***

On the trip back to Pegasus, John looked at her and said, "Never thought I'd see you like this again, geared up and ready to go."

She smiled, grim and determined. "I'm up for anything that needs to happen. Words, war, whatever it takes."

Rodney leaned forward. "We're going to die, aren't we? I mean, isn't this a really stupid thing to be doing?"

"No stupider than riding a nuke," John said.

"I don't share your death wish, Colonel. If I die a violent death, it'll be all your fault.

"So you've said."

"Repetition is the mother of learning, at least for the hair-gel impaired."

"I think I've proved that I'm teachable."

She couldn't help but smile at the look that passed between them. Rodney had taught John something, that was for sure. "It'll be good to be home," she said.

John did not look back when he said quietly, "It _is_ good to be home."

Elizabeth glanced back at Carson, who had missed the entire exchange, but she realized that John would not have minded if he'd heard. There was no time to worry about secrets. They might not survive this, but it was the right thing to do. They might find themselves on the wrong side of Earth law, but the law she was following in this decision was older.

She leaned into her seat, watching the back of John and Rodney's heads. She was not part of whatever it was they were, she knew that. They had let her in when she needed them, and for that she was grateful. She had returned the favor once, and if it never happened again, she would understand. If she died with them trying to rescue their home, then she would die well.


End file.
